Becoming T'Pol
by MP - Mary Contrary
Summary: The universe is full of wounds, as much as the healing of them. - Surak
1. Chapter 1

**Office of V'Sai  
><strong>**Clan Council Compound  
><strong>**_Shi'Kahr_, Vulcan**

V'Sai considered what had been conveyed so far, as she sipped her tea. Then, replacing it on the table between them, just so and precisely, she folded her hands in her lap and faced T'Pau again.

"I will acknowledge the obvious." She said. "The things that you report are unexpected and portentous."

T'Pau said nothing. Waiting patiently. Entirely unaffected by V'Sai's decorum.

So. Very well, then.

"You are wise, T'Pau. Perhaps it would be most beneficial now that I speak openly and trust that you are beyond offense."

T'Pau inclined her head slightly. "I will agree, V'Sai."

"Then I will judge further that the things you report are fantastic." V'Sai said. "So that I find them difficult to accept without some measure of evidence."

T'Pau arched an eyebrow sharply in response. And so V'Sai knew she'd overstepped somehow.

"It does not fall to me to establish the truth of these things with you, V'Sai." She suggested. "Indeed, T'Pol is a daughter of your clan, not mine. I have come only to report what I know to be true. It is for you to determine whether you will accept it. And what you will do in response."

"Which begs the question." V'Sai replied. "Why? Our clans are hardly allied. And I know that you rise to prominence even now, both within your clan and in our burgeoning new government. It seems unlikely in the extreme that bringing these things to my attention would serve your interests in any fashion."

"It serves, potentially, the interests of the Vulcan people." T'Pau pointed out. "Which is indeed my interest, above all else."

"You would have been better served addressing these matters yourself." V'Sai said. "Once your influence increases and you find yourself in a position to do so. So I question again your intentions."

T'Pau raised her chin slightly, reconsidering V'Sai. In a somewhat unfavorable light, she suspected.

"You have suggested we speak openly, V'Sai." She said. "And so I will do so."

V'Sai steeled herself…

"I have no interest in pursuing the vain political posturing common to so many clan mothers. Such as yourself. If I am here for any reason related to my clan, it is so that I may repay the debt mine owes to yours. So that this debt may not be called upon when I am in a position that makes repaying it inconvenient."

Which was…unexpected.

And also suggested that T'Pau assumed she would call on that debt once she'd risen to power in the new government…to elicit _favors_…

"Whatever you may think of me and my clan, T'Pau, we do not seek the corruption of government for our ends." V'Sai said.

T'Pau countered. "And whatever you think of me, I am not so foolish as to grant the assumption of benevolence, or even good citizenship, to a clan that has opposed my own for many centuries."

"A clan which aided you significantly in your pursuit of the _Kir'shara_." V'Sai said. "And which has received little recognition for our role in its recovery. Despite the sacrifice of some of our own to that cause, including T'Pol's own mother. The very debt you have come to absolve yourself of."

"And this is the point you fail to acknowledge." T'Pau said. "That the interests of the Vulcan people supersede both clan and individual interests. And your continued failure to acknowledge that establishes the need to repay this debt before you are granted the opportunity to call upon it later. And be refused."

V'Sai paused at that. Refused? _This _debt?

It would seem…that T'Pau truly _was _every bit the fanatic she'd been reported to be. V'Sai suddenly found it believable that this woman might denounce even her own clan in the interests of _all _the people. Precisely as she had been suggesting all along.

Fascinating.

"I begin to perceive how you have risen to such influence so quickly." V'Sai said. "And why so many insist you will continue to do so."

T'Pau had no comment for that, apparently.

V'Sai nodded. "Very well. Putting aside clan interests, then, and even the repayment of this debt…focusing solely on the interests of the Vulcan people…let us determine together what must be done in response to the things you report."

T'Pau observed her for a time. Naturally considering whether her sudden shift of perspective was trustworthy.

So V'Sai determined it best to expose her own interests for scrutiny. It was, after all, equitable now to do so.

"Unlike yourself, my interests lie first and foremost with my clan. Specifically with the daughters of my clan. But in regards to that, I must also recognize the necessity of government and the predominant concerns of the Vulcan people at large. I am hardly willing to undermine the very foundation upon which my clan rests. And so, on this point we agree somewhat."

"And I will acknowledge that T'Pol has become…a catalyst of sorts." V'Sai continued. "She rebels against her clan. She rebels against her government. She rebels even against her role in Vulcan society. For many, her choices seem justified. To others, exceedingly foolish. And so she has played her part in forcing the reexamination of many traditions that are of extreme importance to our people. Especially today."

"But now you suggest her choices and actions may have been influenced by factors beyond logic. The bounds of her _fullara _broken, a false _plak'tau_, the subsequent effects of the expanse and exposure to this toxin, trellium. And things more troubling even than these. Intentional abuse of the toxin, for an extended period. Even mating with a Human, and out of cycle at that."

"Indeed." T'Pau affirmed. "Which should suggest to you that her behavior continues to escalate beyond her control. To the point that her celebrity poses a potential threat to the people."

"Because you expect knowledge of these things to become public?"

"Not necessarily." T'Pau said. "I believe that will prove unlikely. Even now this awareness exists only between us. And it is highly improbable that T'Pol will ever allow another to touch her mind, whether she suspects I have become aware of these things or not."

"She has suffered violation in that manner more than once, according to you." V'Sai said. "This…_v'tosh ka'tur, _Tolaris, and the further damage that resulted from _that _assault. And so I am surprised she allowed you to touch her in that way."

"She was able to evoke trust in me due to my association with her mother. And she was desperate to do so, in order to seize the cure for her ailment when it was unexpectedly offered."

"Which bears witness to emotional decision making in itself." V'Sai noted.

"Indeed." T'Pau said. "And if her deterioration continues to escalate, we can expect more of the same. Her behavior becoming increasingly disturbing as time progresses."

"Leading inevitably to incidents and behaviors that will illustrate her diminishing mental status clearly to the people." V'Sai said. "Thus undermining the reexamination and reconstitution you intend for so many traditional foundations. And so I perceive now your concerns."

They sat together for a time, contemplating their shared considerations. The tea on the table before them long forgotten.

"The obvious response to this presents many difficulties." V'Sai said at last.

"Assuming you intend to aid T'Pol in regaining mastery of herself, that would require her return to Vulcan."

"The very thing she rebels most against." V'Sai acknowledged. "Out of fear, I now realize."

"Entirely." T'Pau said.

V'Sai was quiet for a moment. Accepting the very disagreeable position she found herself in.

And the fact that T'Pau's intelligence and wisdom was clearly greater than she had assumed. And that her rise to the appointment of mother to her clan was largely inevitable.

And, so, that her own clan's ancient rivalry with T'Pau's would be best served by being concluded amicably. And soon. _Before _T'Pau came to power…

"Then we are forced to wait and observe." She said. "Merely hoping an opportunity presents itself. Before she achieves the utter destruction she flees toward."

T'Pau gazed her then. Strangely.

"She is a wounded _lara_." V'Sai explained. "And she will flee from any approach, however benevolent."

"You are unaware of what has occurred." T'Pau announced.

And now V'Sai's eyebrow rose.

Of course. She should have realized immediately.

She should have realized when she found T'Pau waiting for her at the door this morning. She had not come at her _leisure _to do this thing. Something had _compelled _her…

V'Sai tapped the bar on table's comm system.

"T'vel." She ordered. "Bring my morning report, immediately."

"Excuse me, V'Sai." T'Pau apologized. "It seems I intruded before you were able to prepare yourself for the day."

"It is my own failing, T'Pau. It was unwise to delay my review. I assume then that T'Pol suffered an emotional outburst at the Coalition conference on Earth?"

"No, V'Sai." T'Pau said. "Indeed much else has occurred in the last day, with far greater import than that. I respectfully recommend you meditate prior to reviewing the day's report."

V'Sai accepted that T'Pau's council was logical to follow, considering all relevant circumstances. So she meditated in private before reviewing her morning report, even as T'Pau waited patiently in her office for her to return.

But she was forced to wait a while longer. As V'Sai required significant time to recover from her outrage at what the Humans of Terra Prime had done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Woman's Retreat  
><strong>**_Maat'ran'sa-te'kru _Compound  
><strong>**Vulcan  
><strong>**(Two weeks later)**

"T'Pol, daughter of T'Les. Come forward and be judged before your clan."

The attendant stepped aside, back into the chamber and out of sight again, leaving the two men to either side holding open the doors. Each wore the traditional trappings of the clan guard, little more than leather straps at the chest and loincloths as a concession to modesty. Both grasped _lirpa _in one hand, held ready to be wielded in the defense of their duty.

Intimidating, certainly, as they glared directly at her, conveying violent intent should she dare pass beyond the line they guarded. Whether she had been called forth or not, and despite the fact that they held open the doors for her to do so. The threat remained perfectly clear.

Which was entirely the point. Being the first and most meager of the challenges she likely faced. To brave these men and violate the line they held. A simple task, easily done, existing entirely to affirm that she was, indeed, to be tested today.

But for Elizabeth to be affirmed and accepted…granted a place of honor in the records, as a fallen daughter of the clan…

Stepping through the double doors of the darkened audience chamber, T'Pol was struck not by the men's weapons, but by the heavy stillness the chamber contained. Despite both aisles leading to the dais being lined with the various close relatives of her clan, no one there spoke as she passed before them.

Or moved. Or acknowledged her presence in any way. Nor even seemed to breathe perceptibly as she drove her apprehension before her down the gauntlet.

And as the doors were drawn closed behind her.

"T'Pol." The woman said, standing at the dais at the end. The only one who had spoken or displayed any signs of life so far. V'Sai, her clan mother. The one who would judge her today and in whose hands Elizabeth's memory resided. To be acknowledged and honored…or denied entirely…

"Daughter of the clan, stand before me now."

T'Pol continued forward, head bowed just so, displaying the proper deference to her elder. And knowing she was not at all prepared for the shame that was sure to come.

When she reached the appointed place, she waited. Patiently, never so brazen as to raise her eyes to meet V'Sai's without invitation.

For several minutes.

Until T'Pol began to wonder irrationally if time had stopped. Or existence had ended. Or whether she possessed the patience to remain still and silent for even a moment longer…

"Daughter." V'Sai said at last. "You know why you are here. Know that I will suffer no pretended ignorance."

All was still for a time more.

Long enough that T'Pol began to imagine this may have become her eternity. A never ending cycle of crushing stillness, punctuated by dreadful pronouncements.

"I will not delineate the reports that I have heard. Nor the intelligence our agents have brought to my table. Nor any of the incidents that have led to your judgment here. Know only that your clan is aware. Perhaps aware of far more than you expect."

Stillness, again. For a time.

And a time longer.

"I will grant you the only concession you will receive here. The assumption that you have not conspired to keep these matters from my attention. For if you had, then you would already have severed yourself from your blood. Rather than we, you."

Stillness. And a desperate grasping at what elements of discipline remained to her, hoping only to endure a while longer without rising and fleeing the chamber…

"You are wounded, Daughter. By your own hand."

And, no. _No_, that was _not _true.

So much of that had been entirely out of her control! Perhaps a foolish mistake here…an illogical choice there…but the effects of the expanse…Tolaris and the _Pa'nar_…and…

"Mother, no…" She pleaded.

_*snap*_

V'Sai snapped her fingers sharply, causing T'Pol to draw up short. Immediately quiet and attentive again.

Stifled, put in her place. Silenced.

And…surprised at the realization of what had just occurred. The clan mother had just snapped her fingers at her. She'd never witnessed another Vulcan snap their fingers before, that she could recall. It was an entirely Human expression.

V'Sai held her hand before her then, gracefully. Offering it for inspection…and snapped again.

_*snap*_

"A Human expression." She said, mirroring T'Pol's own thoughts. "One that has spread here in your absence. It is quite popular among the Human representatives on Vulcan. Enough that it has become logical for me to adopt it myself, in my dealings with them."

As both she and T'Pol examined her hand, V'Sai with infinite grace and observance, T'Pol with only uncertainty and apprehension…she snapped her fingers again.

_*snap*_

"Consider this, Daughter." She suggested. "Why have we never discovered and adopted this expression?"

T'Pol recognized why immediately. And answered, at least a little relieved to be able to participate in things. To, perhaps, exercise some measure of control...

"Because it is an emotional expression, Mother." She offered.

True enough, she was sure. As she was sure her saying so constituted an accusation of emotionality against her clan mother for having utilized it. But no offense was intended…and her clan mother was surely beyond offense…

"We have these already, T'Pol." V'Sai corrected. "We are hardly devoid of non-verbal communications. It does not necessarily constitute an emotional display any more than any other form of communication."

T'Pol reconsidered. Indeed, communication of any sort required some concession to emotion. Thought and the motivation to communicate both required a modicum of emotional impetus. Existence as a sentient entity required it, in fact, if one were willing to examine the matter _that _deeply…

"Then I cannot say, Mother." She admitted.

"If you had not left your people and stayed with your clan, you would have witnessed the birth of your cousin T'Mar's child." She said.

T'Pol nearly reacted to the crushing grief of that. The reminder that other women of her clan had experienced conception, growth and birth. And all without losing their child, as she had.

"And so, in meeting your obligations to her, you would have had your first extended experience with the care of children, the child's older siblings. Caring for them while their mother recovered."

V'Sai returned her attention to her raised hand, examining it idly again. Ignoring T'Pol in favor of her own hand.

T'Pol's attention immediately wandered to those observing. Her mother's aunt and sister were there, to the left, behind her. Three others she hadn't even recognized as she passed. Had she been away so long? T'Mar, daughter of T'Min, on the right side of the room, who'd been nearly a child herself when last she saw her, but now…

_*snap*_

T'Pol blinked.

"You would likely then have witnessed those children perform this behavior at some point." V'Sai said. "And been forced to recall that you yourself performed it when you were a child. One of many things you left behind as you entered early adulthood and have since forgotten. Because, as you guessed before, it is considered inappropriately emotional."

V'Sai snapped her fingers again.

_*snap*_

Which was beginning to become irritating…

"Perhaps it is more accurate to say that it is emotionally provocative." T'Sai suggested. "As it is intended, and in all instances used, to provoke an emotional response. And for this reason considered inappropriate."

T'Sai snapped. Again.

_*snap*_

T'Pol reflected that perhaps it would most logical then to get to the point. As the inappropriateness of the provocative behavior was becoming obvious…

"The Humans embrace this behavior." T'Sai observed. "Well into adulthood. Incorporating it into routine social interactions. Expressing an intriguing number of often contradictory things with it. There is a lesson here, concerning Humans. You have been among them for some time now. Have you discovered it, Daughter?"

T'Pol sought through the implications for something that might fit…hurrying, before the clan mother might snap her fingers at her again.

"They are childish, mother?" She guessed. Which was not entirely accurate…

"Essentially." V'Sai acknowledged. "To our perceptions, they are. Consider the behavior of our young, before they begin fully to discover the Way of Surak. Before their emotionality expands and threatens society. It is important to note that this is when our children must begin to embrace the Way."

T'Pol was uncomfortable with that…but the more she considered it, the more sense it made. Humans were much like Vulcan children. Not so much in maturity, exactly…but emotionally…

_*snap*_

T'Pol's ears twitched.

"So you see." V'Sai said. "Like Vulcan children, they do not require the Way. Their passions do not expand quite beyond that point, that it becomes a threat to their society. That it denies them civilization."

And _again_.

_*snap*_

"Almost, perhaps. Some would argue slightly _beyond _that point…but the fact remains. They do not require the unforgiving constraints of logic merely to sustain rationality. Because they are not routinely capable of the passions of the savage Vulcan."

T'Pol understood that. At least…she suspected she did. But she couldn't quite see what her clan mother was getting at…with this incessant snapping…

"But _we _require it." V'Sai said. "_You _require it, Daughter."

Ah. Of course.

"And by attempting to circumvent those constraints you have discovered what lies beyond." V'Sai said. "Why those constraints are necessary. And too late you realize your error."

_*snap*_

T'Pol's eyes flittered to her clan mother's hand, still on display.

_*snap*_

"This is why this expression begins to provoke irritation in you." V'Sai said.

_*snap*_

"And why, were I to continue, you would be forced to express that irritation."

_*snap*_

"How many times will be necessary before you humiliate yourself, Daughter?"

_*snap*_

"Mother…" T'Pol began.

_*snap*_

She closed her eyes. Seeking calm.

_*snap*_

She flinched.

_*snap*_

And again, gasping slightly.

And stiffened against the next snap, still desperately seeking calm before it could strike. Finding it eventually. With an all too un-Vulcan difficulty.

When time passed…and no further assault descended…she opened her eyes again. V'Sai had lowered her hand and stood impassive before her. Unmoved by her shame.

All was quiet for a time.

"I trust I have established the point." V'Sai said then.

T'Pol swallowed. Itself a wholly inappropriate display.

"Yes, Mother." She said, quietly.

Her humiliation was complete.

Shamed before her clan. Driven nearly to outburst by the simplest provocation. Largely as she had expected.

Odd, the measure of relief that accompanied that shame.

V'Sai nodded mildly. "Very well. Then let us discover what we can do to heal the wounds you have inflicted upon yourself, Daughter."

…what?

And…_what_?

"Mother…my…Elizabeth…" T'Pol stuttered.

"Are you here for her, Daughter, or for yourself?" V'Sai asked. "She has already been accepted and her place of honor assured. But what will _you _do?"

T'Pol stood stunned.

"Your clan is here, T'Pol. And we love you, Daughter. So, indeed, what will you do?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Shival Flats  
><strong>**Vulcan**

V'Sai stood impassively, observing the scoured sands before her, extending off beyond the horizon. Vast, flat and white.

Featureless, save for the brilliant flaring of _Alam'ak_ above.

It was winter still, of course. Else merely standing here would have proven exceedingly foolish. Deadly lightning storms scoured the face of the flats during the summer months. A large part of what rendered the area so devoid of life and featureless as it was.

Featureless, save for the lone, flat stone that lay before her.

"Observe this place, T'Pol." V'Sai said. "Does it remind you of anything especially?"

T'Pol stood meekly to the side and behind her clan mother. Still humbled and pitiful, to V'Sai's estimations.

"I am uncertain…" She said, quietly. "Perhaps…during meditation…"

"Indeed." V'Sai said. "And it is no accident that we conjure a white and featureless expanse in our minds in seeking peace. It is entirely logical to do so, of course. But the inspiration for this first occurred here. In this place."

V'Sai folded her hands at her back, turning her gaze directly to the sitting stone that lay before them.

"Do you know the name T'Kau, Daughter?"

T'Pol searched her memory…something from her childhood…from classes concerning history and logic…

"She was the foremother of Surak." She said. Somewhat confidently.

"That is correct." V'Sai said. "The clan mother of Surak, in fact. And upon who's knee he learned much that would lead him to the wisdom he would later reveal. And over what clan did T'Kau reside?"

"Our own, mother." T'Pol said.

"And so she is your foremother as well." V'Sai noted.

She gestured gracefully at the sitting stone, her hand seemingly exalting the simple, flat stone with only that gesture.

"It was here, T'Pol, that she meditated. Daily, through all the winter days. And some say, the summer as well. For the practice was not unknown at the time and T'Kau was a great healer then. It behooved her to do so in her later days. For then there was no Way of Surak, only the barest beginnings of the Way. The foundation that Surak would later build upon."

"This featureless white expanse." V'Sai continued. "Surak would adopt this image himself in his meditations, having learned this from his foremother. And so it passed down to us. Consider the stellar flares of _Alam'ak_ above, as well, upon which T'Kau would focus. The flame which we even still utilize for our own focal point. Perhaps you can see it as the symbol of _Alam'ak_ that it is."

T'Pol considered these things for a time. Unable to discern the overall lesson here, but able to accept that there seemed to be one, at least.

"It is said that T'Kau's _katra _resides in this stone." V'Sai said. "That is untrue, of course, though it is understandable how this legend could have come to be. Discover this for yourself, Daughter."

V'Sai indicated the sitting stone again, with another reverent gesture.

"Touch the stone."

T'Pol balked immediately.

"Mother…"

"Let go your fear, Daughter." V'Sai soothed. "It has cost you enough already, has it not?"

And indeed, though the simple, flat stone seemed common enough in every corporal way…T'pol feared it. She did not know why, but she did. And it was the nature of fear to require no understanding of it, only obedience to its demands.

To flee. Or to fight.

Neither being logical responses to a stone of any sort.

So T'Pol attempted to master her fear. For perhaps the first time in some while. And, eventually, in the shadow of her clan mother's calm, stepped forward…

…and touched the stone. The meditation seat of T'Kau.

And _felt _something...

A…warmth, beyond the reflected heat of _Alam'ak_. From deep within.

And an awareness of sorts…that called to her…

"Mother…" She said, wondering.

"And so you see." V'Sai. "Not the true _katra _of T'Kau perhaps. But an echo of it. An impression, one must assume, left in this stone. For T'Kau lived a very long time, embracing peace here diligently, for more days and hours than can be counted."

T'Pol withdrew her hand…reluctantly. And looked up to V'Sai.

"'T'Pol'." V'Sai said. "'T'Pol' is a name. What does this name mean?" V'Sai asked.

A simple question. 'Pol'. Fire, ignition, kindling. 't-' Woman of, lady of. She had learned that much before she had even learned to read.

"Woman of flame." T'Pol said.

"Specifically, the flame of the candle." V'Sai corrected.

V'Sai observed her for a time. Until T'Pol felt compelled to stand again, as it was clear another judgment would descend…

"You will meditate here." V'Sai said. "As your foremother before you did. And as many women of your clan have since. _Alam'ak_ will be your focal point, and this place your foundation. And you will return to us when you have become T'Pol."

V'Sai turned away, as if that were all that needed to be said here.

"Mother…?" T'Pol said, hesitantly.

"You are not T'Pol." V'Sai said, stopping for only a moment to face her. "You have never been. And you have fled from being that woman for a very long time. The flats are there, beyond, if you wish to continue fleeing. But, if not, then she awaits you to become her, upon that stone."

And V'Sai departed.

Leaving her alone.

With the sitting stone before her. And the vast expanse of emptiness beyond.

* * *

><p>T'Pol gazed at the rhythmic, flowing light above her. Her <em>tvi-bezhun-wein<em>, her inner eyelid, lowered to protect her from the glare.

Separating her further from the universe.

The heat of the stone beneath her, warming her, holding her up…until only the strange, comforting warmth itself remained…the stone ceasing to exist…

The wind and sand flowing over, around…receding…gone…

Until only the flame above remained of the physical. And even it fading from her perceptions…

Her breath extending beyond her…retreating within…flowing…until it faded away…

And there was only emptiness and calm…warmth and nothingness…

And peace…

"Hello?"

And peace faltered…

And someone was there in the other place…

T'Pol became aware of her senses, aware of her vision. And the young woman who stood before her.

She took a breath, expelling serenity and allowing existence to intrude upon her again.

The woman was young, only somewhat less than she herself. Brown hair, grown long like the Syrannites. Perhaps she was one? Her manner of dress suggested it. A simple cloth tunic and pants, humble and simple. Much like T'Pau and the others had worn in the Forge.

She had a leather bag of some sort at her side, the strap extended comfortably across to rest on the far shoulder. A medicine bag, T'Pol somehow knew.

Her emotions were evident, barely constrained. Which T'Pol found disturbing. The girl was smiling slightly, as if pleased to have found her sitting here.

And she seemed familiar. As if she had met the girl at some time in the past. Associated with her in some manner too trivial to recall now…

"Hello." T'Pol said.

It was the appropriate response, after all.

"We have to hurry." The girl said, almost urgently. "He's very sick. We can help him, if we hurry."

"Who?" T'Pol asked, still seated comfortable on the stone.

"Satik." She replied. "And we must hurry. Come!"

"Who are you?" T'Pol asked, suddenly certain it was a matter of significance.

"I'm T'Pol!" The girl said, already turning to dash away…smiling slightly at the silly question…and fading away as she ran…

…until she was gone. Like a wisp of smoke across the flat, white sands.

Leaving her alone again.

So T'Pol adjusted the medicine bag more comfortably on her shoulder. And began to run as well.

The warrior, Satik. He'd been bitten by a _oluhk _of some sort and she knew how to treat such a thing very well. If she hurried, she would be able to help him.

So she ran. Across the flats, back to the village beyond. To do her duty.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Kanash-shi'masu _Village  
><strong>**Shi'al Province, Na'nam**

T'Pol bounded quickly up the path through the broken stone, passing beyond to reach level ground again, where the rock gave way to earth once more. There the relatively abundant waters of the _Kanash-shi'masu _had brought forth greenish-yellow grass to cool her feet a little.

At least, if she took care to jump a bit as she ran, ensuring each footfall landed amidst a patch of the scattered _yar_. Which she did.

She knew them all and had long since reduced the practice to body memory, required little to no attention to achieve it successfully, having come the same route day after day, returning from her morning meditations.

As a healer, it was _important _to meditate every day. Healing required touch. And touch shared emotion. That could prove difficult to manage otherwise, whatever one...

"T'Pol! Stop playing in the grass and _hurry up here_!"

Her father, short tempered and impatient. As always.

He would benefit greatly from more frequent meditation, she knew. But she still failed to convince _him _of that.

Arriving in a huff of breathlessness, she bounded right by him. She had _work _to do. _Important _work. It was her _duty_…

…but the scattered _sehlats_ around the tent brought her up short. And the men standing around there. All of them armed and armored. The _sehlats _armored as well, and armed at the paw even, with spiked gauntlets.

Soldiers from the garrison, with _guns_. She would have to pass _between _them…

Her father struck the back of her head sharply.

"Stop gawking!" He snapped. "S'haile's man needs tending. If he dies because you're too busy admiring the clouds…"

"Yes, father!" She said, hurrying forward.

Better to take her chances with the soldiers than be further humiliated before them. Being struck about the head.

Like a little girl or something.

* * *

><p>Within, on the rickety cot laid out for that purpose, she found Satik. Barely conscious, his leg already cut free of his uniform pants. Too horribly swollen from the poison to be contained, else circulation would have been hindered.<p>

Two other men standing over him, covering their concern with anger. At _her_.

"Where have you been, girl?" One snapped. "He's been waiting for over an hour!"

"Excuse me." She said, eyes lowered. Bowing slightly, standing to the side of the entrance. "You must leave."

"Just get over here and tend to him!"

"Excuse me, sirs." She said again, with deference. "You must leave. It is necessary."

The one snapping at her stomped over. Clearly intending to snatch her up and thrust her at the wounded man. But the other stopped him in time, at risk of being struck himself in the process.

The two stared viciously at one another, fury _palpable _in the air, until reason descended somewhat on the first man. And so he shook off the hand holding him after a moment, to stomp snarling past her.

The second man left a moment later, sparing her not a word or look.

T'Pol released the breath she had been holding.

Soldiers were _violent_. Not entirely lacking in discipline, of course. But their disciplines required the exercise of violence to address…well, it seemed for all the world to her…_every _situation or obstacle.

And they tended to provoke fear, which was so difficult to manage.

Shaking her head disapprovingly, she approached Satik.

The man on the cot drew a breath to speak, though it shuddered fitfully from the pain he busily suppressed.

"They are worried…*_gasp_*…I'll die before it's my turn…*_grunt_*…to clean the latrines again."

"Do not speak, please." T'Pol said. Kneeling beside him, she drew her medicine bag to the fore, digging around within until she produced a smaller bag. From there she drew the root she sought and presented it to him reverently.

"_Kashan-ne-mashya_." She said. "If you will chew it for a time, it will make the treatment much easier…"

"Yes, I know." Satik said. "Not my first time in a medicine tent, girl."

He took the root and chew it busily. Loudly, with is mouth open.

Until comfort came on him after a while.

"Gods. That's better." He sighed. "I could have used that an hour ago, girl."

"I am T'Pol." She corrected him. "I will drain the poison a little. And then we will begin."

* * *

><p>With the leg drained and properly bandaged, the majority of the poison, and the fluid built up in the vain attempt to contain it, had been released. The loss of fluid and the anesthetic of the root had combined to render Satik unconscious, thankfully. The treatment was much easier to perform without emotional distraction.<p>

T'Pol placed her fingers at the appropriate contact points. Her left hand, from where she sat on the cot above his head, reaching down to his face. Her right on his chest, at the precise points with the proper pressure, until contact was made.

And so she opened herself. A conduit, channeling his psychic energies through her. Redirecting them, to the places of disturbance they'd otherwise pounded helplessly upon. Disrupting natural healing, rather than powering and edifying.

She added her own energies then. Aiding and redirecting. Empowering and guiding. Until, unseen by her, the remaining poison began to seep from the wound on his leg. Pushed out. Denied. Ejected, having no place there.

And the wound remembered what it was to be whole. Letting go of pain and outrage, accepting healing…

* * *

><p>T'Pol roused from her meditation, taking a slow breath to accept existence again.<p>

Satik was sitting up on the cot, flexing his leg before him. It was still a little swollen and would be for a time yet. But there was obvious improvement.

That was very good. He had been close to dying, she knew. And he must have known as well, though he had refused to acknowledge it for some reason.

"That's good work, girl." He said, approving.

"T'Pol." She reminded him.

He nodded. "Good enough then. T'Pol."

He reached beneath the cot with a grunt, to recover his pack. Flipping back the leather cover, he began to search inside.

"Sir, concerning the wound." T'Pol said. "You should rest for a day, though two would be better. And refrain from taxing it…"

Satik grunted. "My leg will rest enough when I'm dead."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow. Making sure he saw her do so.

"It would be unwise…"

He sighed. "I'm a soldier, girl…excuse me, _T'Pol_. I'll probably be dead next week. Two days is too much to ask."

He produced a small leather bag then, digging within it now. The clinking of metal within making clear he intended to pay her.

"But I have a whole week now, thanks to you." He said, smiling politely. "So you've earned your pay."

"Excuse me, sir. I can accept no payment." She denied.

That surprised him.

"Why not?" He asked. "You have to eat, don't you?"

"This is my duty, sir. We owe a debt to your lord."

Satik's brow furrowed. "What debt?"

"Excuse me, sir. That would be impolite to speak of."

Satik grunted again. "My 'lord' is my _father_. I think I should know about this debt."

T'Pol considered. Satik was indeed the firstborn of S'haile, so it would not be _improper_, exactly…

"Very well." She decided. "My father borrowed from yours, to finance the attempted annex of N'Mut's bordering land many years ago…"

Satik snorted. "Yes, I know about that. N'Mut would have razed your village, if it didn't sit on an oasis as it does. So he taxes you into poverty instead."

He looked around at the tent, frowning. At the squalor it suggested, though it was surely the cleanest and most well-maintained building in the village. She had seen to that, at least.

"So. You do this to pay your father's debt? Serving S'Haile's garrison, placed here to guard the border with N'Mut's lands, who taxes you as punishment for rising against him. An uprising my father funded with a loan that you now repay. I think there is a joke there somewhere."

"It is honorable, sir." T'Pol insisted. Her chin rising slightly in defiance.

Satik grinned. "Calm yourself, T'Pol. I didn't mean to insult you."

He patted his leg then, where it still swelled, without any sign of pain.

"That's good work, though. So I think you've earned a reward anyway."

He tossed the small bag to her, which she caught deftly enough.

"Pay on your father's debt with it, if you wish." He shrugged. "You're a very pretty girl…or, excuse me, a very pretty _T'Pol_. So it pleases me to help you pay this debt of yours."

With a grunt, he took to his feet. Entirely in contradiction to her instruction concerning the care of the wound she'd just treated.

So she frowned.

"I am promised to S'Guya, sir. And so it is improper for you to…"

"S'Guya? N'Mut's son?" Satik exclaimed in surprise. "So the old bastard took _you _for his son as well?"

Again, T'Pol's chin arched up in defiance.

Satik snorted. "You've quite a debt on your shoulders. I don't think I'll manage to injure myself quite enough to pay it all."

"That is _my _debt, sir. And…"

"Satik." He said.

"What?"

"My name is _Satik_. Not 'sir'. My father is 'sir'. I'm Satik."

T'Pol frowned. "Very well. Satik. I will hold to my honor and repay my debts. If you insist upon injuring yourself, that is entirely your concern."

Satik grinned again, which disturbed her even more.

Then, with a quirky nod, he left the tent.

Walking on his wounded leg. Without so much as a crutch. Which caused her to suppress significant frustration.


	5. Chapter 5

T'Pol stirred the pot above the fire pit. A simple vegetable stew, nothing extravagant. But she'd been so very busy all week. S'Haile's garrison had gone out the very next day, after she'd treated Satik. Then returned again a week later from a last terrible fight with N'Mut.

So, of course, she been tending to wounded men all week. Several of whom had died as a result because she'd been unable to get to them in time. Triage being an unfortunate necessity. And gunshots being especially difficult to treat to begin with.

Of course there were other healers available. A couple, anyway. They simply weren't as skilled as she was. She'd had to come around again and care for at least four who hadn't been treated properly.

She had hoped for a time that S'Haile's victory over N'Mut might change things somehow. But it hadn't seemed to so far. Though S'Haile had emerged victorious and forced N'Mut to submit, that only meant S'Haile now gathered taxes, men and water from him. One of dozens of such subsidiary holdings S'Haile claimed. It had no impact on her village in particular. So she continued to serve the garrison and her village continued to pay N'Mut. Even if most of those taxes now went to S'Haile in the end.

Serving dinner well after _Alam'ak_ had set, T'Pol could tell her father was weary from his day. So perhaps these things had impacted the village after all. Just not in any especially obvious way. Something weighed heavily on him, at least. She assumed some political situation.

So dinner was quiet in a more unusual way than normal. Enough that it troubled her.

When the meal concluded she brought him his _k'vass_, heated just so. Her concerns already forgotten in the awareness that the day was coming to an end and her duties were nearly concluded. She looked forward to an _evening _meditation at the stone in the flats, if she could manage it. A rare opportunity she had not availed herself of for many days.

"T'Pol." Her father said. "Come and sit with me for a time."

She worried immediately. First, that it was unusual for him to expect her company when he enjoyed his _k'vass_. Second, because she didn't particularly enjoy _his _company when he was drunk.

But she sat. And waited.

"There is news from N'Mut's fortress." He said, carefully. "S'Guya will require your aid soon."

"Has he been injured?" T'Pol asked immediately. That was a matter of some concern. "I am prepared to go now, father, if I'm required."

He shook his head slightly. "We will go tomorrow. But he will not require you for several days yet."

Several _days_? What manner of injury could not be treated until several days had passed?

T'Pol frowned. "I don't understand, father."

"His time is coming upon him, T'Pol."

His…?

Oh.

T'Pol suppressed panic.

"I see." She said, shakily. And rose to fetch another cup for her father…

…then dithered a bit, when she realized he'd not finished, or even begun, his first.

So she turned to take the pot from the fire pit, to wash it. In the washroom, in the back…

"Excuse me…" She muttered, stumbling away.

"T'Pol…come and sit down, daughter."

"I have to wash the pot!" She said, her voice rising. Panicking.

"T'Pol." Her father said, more firmly now. "Sit down."

T'Pol stopped at the door. Closing her eyes, seeking peace. The pot that needed washing clutched to her chest, so she could feel its warmth there.

And finding peace, she let go her fear somewhat. Examining the matter objectively for a time.

So she replaced the pot on the pit and sat with her father again. The pot being not so important in light of greater matters.

"Calm yourself, T'Pol." He said.

"I am calm, father." She said. "When must we go? There are several men of S'Haile's that require further maintenance."

"The others will have to see to them."

She nodded. "Yes, of course. I…am unprepared…"

"I think there is no preparation for this." Her father said, sadly.

She could only nod again.

"T'Pol…I would prefer…I would prefer that your mother were here." He said. "I don't know what to say to comfort you now."

"I have no mother." T'Pol said. Surprising herself at the bitterness that evaded her and leapt forth with that statement.

"I'm sorry, father." She said, immediately. "I did not mean to…that was improper…"

"Calm yourself, T'Pol." He said.

"She was not at fault." T'Pol said. "People die. I know this. Pneumonia is…difficult to treat…"

"She would be here for you if she could be, daughter."

T'Pol nodded.

And took a deep breath.

"I do not want to go, father." She said.

"I know." He said, simply.

She nodded.

"But I will go."

Her father placed his hand on her shoulder then. And she closed her eyes for a while, allowing him to comfort her as he could.

* * *

><p>T'Pol shifted her pack again, so that the strap stopped cutting into her shoulder so much for a while. It would slide back as they walked along, she knew. But it afforded her a few moments without that discomfort.<p>

"Have you seen him?" She asked. "I assume he has changed. It has been two years since he last visited."

"No." Her father said, walking through the sands beside her. "But I understand he has grown a little in that time. In the sense that he has taken on greater responsibilities for N'Mut."

T'Pol frowned. "He seemed…uncomfortable with me then. I do not think he approved of me."

"He was as uncomfortable as you were, that is all."

Her eyes searched her father. "Why?"

He looked back, his eyebrow indicating surprise. "For the same reasons you were uncomfortable, I assume."

T'Pol frowned again. "I'm promised. Why would I need to approve of him?"

Her father was surprised again. "T'Pol, of course you must approve of him. He is to be your mate."

T'Pol stared back, frowning. That didn't make any sense at all. She was _promised_. It's not like she had any _choice_. Approve how?

"I don't understand any of this." She said.

Her father chuckled, to her frustration.

"You do not need to understand. That is what your time is for."

T'Pol frowned all the more deeply. _His _time. Not _hers_. She wasn't…or, she didn't feel any…that is, _she _didn't want to…

And she didn't see how…_that _could illuminate anything here anyway.

She sighed, adjusting the strap on her pack again.

"When you and mother…when your first time came…?"

"It was different for us." He said.

Which wasn't very informative.

"Different in what way?" She asked.

Her father thought for a moment. "Do you know…when a man has no promise, he takes a mate? He finds an unbound woman he thinks will be a good mate and…"

"Like T'Lin and Kovek." She said. They had mated, for several months, before it was announced they had bonded. There had been no promise there. They had simply decided to mate and done so.

"Yes. Precisely." Her father affirmed.

"But you and mother were promised."

"Indeed. But we lived in the same village. And when my time drew close, within a year, I spent more time with your mother. So we knew each other well when the time came, we had already bonded."

T'Pol considered that.

"But that is _more _disturbing." She said.

"Is it?" Her father asked.

"Because then you know each other. And you can…_feel _one another. So it matters more. They are not a stranger that you can be shamed before, and then leave and forget the shame."

"You cannot leave your mate and forget, T'Pol." He corrected.

"But it is more shameful _then_. At that moment." She said. "Afterwards I suppose it would fade with time. But _then _it is more shameful, because they _feel _you. And you feel _them_."

Her father began to express frustration. "Then it is best that you do not know S'Guya well then."

T'Pol struggled to understand that. Before deciding she couldn't, and so let go of it.

"What is it like?" She asked.

"What is what like?"

"_It_, father."

"The _pon'farr _or after?"

"What do you mean 'after'?" She asked, slightly shocked.

"You will surely have sexual relations _after _the _pon'farr_, T'Pol."

She stopped in the sand, staring until he realized she wasn't there anymore and turned to see why she'd fallen behind.

"Why?" She demanded. "Doesn't the _pon'farr _stop? It's supposed to be for only a week. And only every seven years."

"When you bond, you will of course desire one another when you are intimate enough."

"Why would we be _intimate_?" She asked, growing more alarmed.

"Because you are bonded. Of course you will be intimate. He will be your mate."

"I don't want to be intimate with him, father. Only with you."

He frowned. "I am not your mate, T'Pol. I am your father."

"That is why I do not want to be intimate with him. He is not my family."

"He _will _be, T'Pol. That is the point of it."

T'Pol stared.

"How is he to become my _family_?"

"By bonding to him. And again, when you bear his child and share that bond as well."

T'Pol's eyes searched the sands, looking for understanding. Of course…she supposed that made sense. It should have occurred to her. After all, that is how her own parents became family, was it not?

But…why…?

"Did you and mother have sexual relations beyond the _pon'farr_?"

"Of course."

"But that is pointless!" T'Pol insisted. "You can only conceive during _pon'farr_."

"It serves another purpose besides conception, T'Pol."

"What purpose?"

"Promoting intimacy."

T'Pol stared.

Then adjusted the strap on her shoulder again. Trudging forward toward the fortress of N'Mut.

"I don't understand any of this." She said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Fortress of N'Mut**  
><strong>Shi'al Province, Na'nam<strong>

T'Pol washed the sand and dust from her face and hair. Then, in the long mirror on the wall, examined her appearance. To ensure that it was acceptable, of course.

She didn't appear to be…_dirty_…so…she supposed that must be good enough.

But she washed again to be sure. Before attempting to discern how the extremely complicated outfit that had been given her was supposed to be worn. It was no sort of robe, as she had expected to be given. Nor a proper working outfit, as far as she could tell.

It had pants of a sort, far too short to be of any _use, _falling only to mid-calf. And a garishly embroidered…loincloth? But what sense did it make to wear that _over _pants?

And what was the point of the band designed so obviously to _compress _the breasts? And the sash, worn over _that_? Weren't men in _plak'tau _supposed to be _aroused _by breasts? Wasn't that the whole point? To attend to his need and be done with it? So why _hide _them?

And the sandals…they weren't sandals at all! They were…long bits of leather strap she couldn't figure out what to…and…some kind of…stupid…

Ugh!

T'Pol closed her eyes and sought peace. Viciously. As if to throttle it once she found it…

But it eventually was found. So she didn't throttle it.

Yet it all still seemed intolerably unnecessary suddenly. In fact, as she understood the matter, her appearance would matter very little to S'Guya in a few days. Perhaps sooner. She might just as well have been dressed in filth. He would be compelled to _use _her anyway.

The entire line of thought served only to force her to suppress a variety of chaotic impulses. Chief of which being to stomp petulantly across the courtyard to the _sehlat _house, rip off all her garish clothing and jump fully into the waste pit. Gyrate about in there. Until she was covered entirely in _sehlat _droppings. And present herself to S'Guya in _that _fashion.

Force him to take her _then_.

Because he _would_! He wouldn't _care_! Which was the _point_!

Ugh! Stupid _straps_!

…

Calm, T'Pol. Calm…

* * *

><p>By the time someone figured out she was taking too long getting dressed, the women were sent in after her. Probably to be sure she hadn't jumped out of a window and fled.<p>

As she understood it, that sort of thing happened a lot.

Of course they were fussing over her soon enough. Because she'd done it all wrong and they had to fix it. So it was actually good they had been sent in after her, she supposed.

She couldn't help but reflect, though, that if her mother were here it would all have been a lot easier. She could have answered all her questions. And she would have known how to wear the sandals. Which _were _sandals, it turned out. They just had far too many straps and strings.

The questions, though. That would have been most helpful. It had been some time after their last conversation before she realized her father had never answered that one in particular…

* * *

><p>"Father, you never answered."<p>

"Answered what?"

"What's it like?"

He'd hesitated for a long time. Which had tempted her to some frustration. It seemed a rather important point to establish. How else would she know if she were doing it properly? Or that he was?

What if they did it _wrong _and died? Because they would _die _if they weren't…successful. Or whatever it was called.

And what _was _it called, anyway?

She knew where his was supposed to go. And what he was supposed to do with it there. Just…in and out, then again, repeatedly, until there was seed. That was simple enough. Even animals could do that. And they were supposed to touch a lot. Constantly, in fact. Which seemed something that would be difficult to avoid doing in that sort of situation anyway.

But if she _hadn't _known that? Because father had never even told her that part. T'Lin had. And, of course, she had seen animals do it. But if _she _hadn't known…and _he _hadn't known…and they did it _wrong_…what would happen _then_?

And what else had he neglected to tell her about it? He just kept saying it would come naturally. None of it seemed natural in the slightest, though. In fact, it seemed decidedly _un_natural. All of it.

"When you have a scratch that has become infected…" He said suddenly. "You scratch it, because it itches. Yet, it hurts to scratch because it is infected. You scratch it nonetheless, because you must. And you continue doing so, experiencing both pleasurable relief and barely tolerable pain. Until you reach satisfaction. _Pon'farr _is like that."

T'Pol had stared at the back of his head for a while. And he'd stubbornly refused to turn around. So she went over that a few times in her mind. To be sure she understood everything…

"It itches?" She asked.

"In a way." He said. "It has also been described accurately as fever or heat. Also as hunger."

So.

A painfully itchy, hot, hunger.

That was not at all natural. It could not possibly be.

"Are you certain, father?"

"Of course."

T'Pol contemplated that.

"Beyond the _pon'farr_, it is much the same. But without the discomfort."

Which established the matter firmly, in her opinion. It was clearly _not _a natural process. In order to encourage procreation the pleasurable experience _devoid _of discomfort should have been during the _fertile _period.

Not at every other time in between! That was entirely illogical!

* * *

><p>When S'Guya finally appeared, T'Pol was forced to suppress panic again. Because he looked almost to be in full <em>plak-tou <em>already. She was supposed to have at least three days to prepare but…what if there was no time?

He was sweating slightly. And his eyes were not narrowed. Typically when one focuses with intensity, the eyes were narrowed. To focus so intently with the eyes _not _narrowed was…disturbing. Because it was unnatural.

And he smelled…strange. Almost as if she should recognize the scent but…she never smelled that before. Or anything near it. Some animals smelled differently in their time, she knew. She'd smelled that before. _Sehlat_, for example. But…he didn't smell like anything she'd ever smelled before.

It was admittedly fascinating but…it made her very uncomfortable as well.

Her father stood across the room from her, with S'Guya's father, N'Mut. And his mother, T'Ras. She was alone in the center of the room when he approached her.

She wanted her father with her then. She suppressed her fear but…she would have preferred that.

"I am sorry, T'Pol." S'Guya said.

Which surprised her. As if he had brought this upon them both himself somehow. It was hardly anyone's fault, was it?

But the look in his eyes…it did not match the appeal to sympathy he verbalized. Not at all.

Not in any way.

And then he held out his hand to her. Wanting to reach out fully to grab her, she knew. Drag her away somewhere or throw her down on the floor. And…do _that _to her.

But he waited at least. And she didn't want to make him wait…but…it was an important moment, requiring significant preparation. Because this was the _beginning _of it.

She reached out tentatively to touch his hand, though. She was supposed to do that. That's how it happened. Otherwise she wouldn't be ready for him when the time came. And that would be…if her father was right, then there would be no pleasurable aspect to it. Nor even any driving need.

And she wondered if that wouldn't really be preferable. To simply remain detached and allow him to satisfy his requirement. Wouldn't that be preferable?

But she touched his hand. Because she was supposed to.

And she felt it. Immediately. Like a flame that leapt through his nervous system to rip and tear and burn through her own. Until it ravaged her to the core. And left a spark there, burning.

And then he was gone. Stumbling away out of the room. His duty done.

Her womb still lit with that spark. Waiting to be stoked into a flame. A fire. A bonfire.

A flaming, roaring holocaust that would combust every fiber of her being…

She knew. She understood then.

So when her father came to reclaim her, she stumbled back. Already sick, shaking her head. Denying it. Choking with sickness and the violent awareness of what had been done to her.

And turning to flee into the garden. Flee from all of them who had done this thing to her.


	7. Chapter 7

T'Pol wept in the garden. It had been a very long time since she last had allowed herself to weep in that way. She was older now, of course. So her emotions were much stronger and more dangerous. She knew that it was very unwise to allow herself to be overcome so.

But she didn't care much at the moment. Part of her rather hoped she would die of it. Die weeping in the garden.

Her father had come after her soon enough. But she'd fled from him, deeper into the maze. Until he knew she would not allow him to come to her. So he eventually stopped trying to find her.

There was only one other way out, of course. Through the garden and out into the sands beyond. So she hoped they would go there and look for her, thinking she had fled into the desert. Then at least she would have time to grieve alone.

She wouldn't flee, of course. She would do her duty. There was no other choice to be had. But she would weep for it and grind her bitterness between her teeth for a while. That much was allowed to her, she felt. And if not, then she claimed it anyway. If they were free to do this thing that they had done, then she was free to weep for it.

And that is why she wept in the garden of N'Mut, and why S'Haile found her there alone.

She'd heard him approach but she hadn't cared at first. She wasn't even ashamed to be found that way. In her mind, any offense at the sight was entirely deserved by a world that allowed such things to happen.

But S'Haile did not accuse her, or correct her behavior. He said nothing at all and sat down comfortably instead on the very stone bench she'd thrown herself tearfully upon.

And waited. Perhaps enjoying the scent of _svai _in the air while she bitterly wept.

Until she was spent. And there was nothing left but emptiness and the spark that waited to consume her.

"Do you feel better now, girl?" S'Haile asked.

And his voice brought calm, even to the air he spoke upon. Peace, serenity and light. A voice strong enough to have long since encompassed all those things within it.

But it did not touch her. Not so much as it should have.

"No." She sniffled. "I do not."

S'Haile nodded. "And so you have expended much and gained little. Though now you have the wisdom that comes with that."

"What is wisdom?" She asked, still bitter.

"Wisdom is a grain of sand, that is blown by the wind across the desert to the top of the dune…and knows then that there is no dune, nor desert. Nor wind. Nor sand."

"I wish that I were sand." She said, quietly.

"And you would be, girl, if there were such a thing. All would be sand. That is why it does not exist."

T'Pol allowed herself to be a little amazed that he found humor in that. And that he had shared it with her, knowing she had no hope of comprehending it.

"I am S'Haile. And who are you? For I think 'weeping girl I found in the garden of my enemy' is perhaps too long a name, however beautiful a name it might be."

"I am sand." She said.

"But we have already established that there is no such thing. Have you discovered a truth that we have missed?"

She sighed. "I am T'Pol."

"You change names too often. But I think T'Pol is the name of the healer from _Kanash-shi'masu, _who saved the life of my eldest son. Which would be fortunate, if you existed, as this is the girl I have come to give my blessing to."

"There is no blessing for me." She said.

"I will argue that. So let us debate the matter." S'Haile said. "I will ask first for what you weep. But since you do not exist I will answer for you. You weep because you have come to hold the candle for your betrothed, so that he may do the work that he must do. And now you find that you are required to _be _that flame, and burn to his work."

"Yes." She said.

S'Haile nodded.

"And so I have discovered an irony." He said. "Would you like to see it?"

T'Pol was quiet. In truth, too tired to answer and certain he would answer for her anyway.

S'Haile nodded.

"Yes, I have forgotten. You do not exist. So I will decide for you as well. Indeed, you would delight in perceiving this mystery and you demand that I reveal it to you. And because I exist, I must comply."

T'Pol looked up at him finally. He was indeed the oddest person she had ever encountered. And she was surprised not to find the kindly elder with a twinkling eye she suspected. Instead she found S'Haile, the feared warlord the name had always implied.

His hair was cropped short and peppered with gray. And even there she found a part out of place, the result of a jagged scar that laced his scalp. Matched by another across his left eye, that somehow failed to rob him of the eye itself. And his eyes, for that matter, were set and distant, measuring even her for threat potential from afar. Just as his mouth was hard and firm, betraying nothing and declaring his every spoken word would be a command, which would surely be obeyed. By the universe itself, if necessary.

But she did not exist. And so she was bold.

"I have discovered an irony as well." She said.

"Even better." S'Haile said. "Then I will conquer your irony with mine and claim them both."

And though the humor was evident in his voice…it appeared nowhere on him at all. So that she felt both amused and threatened at once.

"My daughter, who I love and who, among many, I have dedicated myself to protecting, has asked that I give her my blessing. Allow her to bond with the man she has chosen, because I have failed to find one acceptable before now."

S'Haile cocked his head slightly, examining her intently. And she was already enthralled.

"But the man she has chosen I do not find acceptable either. So she has argued the matter with me, and we have debated the matter for many days. And I am forced to agree that I have yet to solve the universe, so there exists the possibility that my judgment of this man is at fault."

"However, I have solved woman. This I understand. And so I have devised a test that will evaluate his suitability for her. As for any woman. So, in doing, this thing that I have done will confirm or deny this man of her choosing better than she or I could hope to. And I have set it into law this very day, so that all might benefit from it."

S'Haile was silent for a time. Until…

"I suppose if you existed, you might be curious." He said. "But as you do not, I will be curious for you. I have granted all women in every land I rule the right of challenge. That is, that any man who might hold claim to them, she may challenge for that claim. With a champion of her choosing. The victor claiming his right to her. The vanquished blessing their union with his blood. That is the law today, T'Pol."

"And so, for my daughter, I have chosen a warrior from among my army. Who I think no greater or lesser a man than the one she has chosen herself. And I have given that man the right to claim her. So now we will see which of these men is worthy. And whether she is worthy of either."

T'Pol stared, amazed and…horrified.

"Why…why would you do this?"

"Because my daughter does not yet understand what it is to be bound and to burn." S'Haile said. "But you know, I think. Do you not? If your betrothed claims you, you will burn. And because he is your betrothed, you will be bound. Tied to him always, unable to escape. Burning for him for as long as you live. And so, it would be good to know that this man is worthy of that. That he can be trusted with it. How else can you test this?"

"I do not want to test it." T'Pol said. "I want to be free of it. I do not want to burn, for anyone."

"But you must. There is no escaping it. If not this man, then another. You have your own flame, T'Pol, which has yet to ignite. So even if you could be free of _this _flame, what will you do when _your _time comes?"

"I will die." She said, fiercely.

"But you already do not exist. So that has been accomplished."

And with that he stood, gazing out piercingly over the garden, as if seeking his next enemy to destroy.

"You have saved my son's life." He said, still surveying the garden. "So I will grant you a gift. Not a reward, as I am told that you would refuse that. A gift. I will offer my son as your champion, so you may call him if you wish. And he will answer, because I will instruct him to do so."

S'Haile look down at her then, with all the peril and foreboding she would otherwise have expected.

"You may choose another, of course. As that is your right. But this is the man I would suggest. Because if you call a champion it is because you hope that he will win you. And he would, of that you can be assured."

"So consider if the death of your betrothed is a worthy price for a short freedom. Because you will belong to my son then. And in three years, burn for him instead. And be bound to him, just as surely, soon after. That is not the freedom that you desire, but it is all that you can hope for."

"So what is your answer, T'Pol?"

"Yes." She said, softly. Before she realized she had spoken.

S'Haile nodded.

And so departed, leaving the weeping girl he'd found in the garden of his enemy to consider terrible things.


	8. Chapter 8

Her father stroked her hair as she sat on the couch in the chamber appointed to her. As he had so many times before. As he had when she was a child. Always comforting and welcomed. Perhaps the only source of true comfort she had ever held claim to.

But she relinquished that claim now. And she did not allow his comfort to touch her tonight.

Until he sighed. "Let me comfort you, T'Pol."

"That is not necessary, father." She said. Just coldly enough to distance herself from him. But not so much as to be especially rude about it.

"You are disturbed. I know this…"

"I will do my duty, father. As I always have."

"Perhaps…there is more to this than duty."

"That is not relevant then." She said. "For me, all there has ever been is my duty."

So he withdrew his hand and ceased attempting to touch her tonight.

"I realize that you do not understand all that has occurred." He said. "And why the choices made had to be made. But I am still your father, whatever you think of that."

"A matter of less gravity than it may have been prior to this day, as you have given me away to S'Guya. And so he will be my mate, and you are to be my father who lives in the distant village."

Her father was quiet for a time. Suppressing anger and hurt, she was sure. And perhaps she had been more pernicious in saying that than she had intended to be…but she decided to let it stand. Indeed, if they must be severed somewhat and this other man take his place, then it was logical that her father come to terms with that now rather than later.

The door to the chamber opened. Through it the mistress of the house entered. T'Ras, bondmate to N'Mut and mother to S'Guya, carrying a regal air of reproach with her, like a cloud of insects on a filthy _sehlat _left to wander the house unwashed.

T'Ras stared at her father for a moment, before…

"Leave the room." She said.

"I will comfort my daughter." Her father insisted.

"There is little you can say to comfort her. Go now. I will attend to this."

He hesitated of course. Still not quite adjusted to the fact that she was no longer to be his concern. But he left, if perhaps with some hesitation. And when he was gone and the door closed fast again, T'Ras herself did not hesitate for long.

"Your behavior was understandable, if not at all acceptable." She said.

"Excuse me, lady." T'Pol said, distantly. "I was unprepared. It will not happen again."

"And that is good. If you are to be a lady of this house, much more will be required of you than that."

T'Ras approached the window to look down on the courtyard below, her hands folded at her back.

"T'Pol, I suggest you adjust yourself to the situation." She said. "You are no longer a child and have not been for some time. You spoke of duty before I entered, so recognize your duty here."

"I do, lady. And I will attend to it."

"The least that I will expect of you." T'Ras said. "But even that duty is a small thing. If that were all that were required of you, it would be better to consign you to a forgotten corner of the fortress. Calling you forth every cycle when S'Guya requires you and leaving it at that."

"I would not object, lady."

T'Ras snorted. "Of course. Because you are a spoiled child of the oasis and you wail against any need of you."

T'Pol was immediately outraged. Barely suppressing her fury, and her desire to rise and strike the elder.

"I have _never _failed in my duty, lady. Not once, since I was child." She insisted.

"Then adjust yourself, foolish girl!" T'Ras snapped. "This is the way of the world. What did you imagine would become of you when your father passed on? Who would care for you then? Did you imagine you would live peacefully alone in your village, living on the kindness of cousins? And that no one would come to abuse you for it?"

"I would do what was required."

"And so do as much now." T'Ras said. "This is the price you must pay for your place to be secured. You will tame S'Guya's need, and he yours. And thus, you will be bound to him. And bound to him, you will be a lady of this house. That is how it will be."

"Yes, lady."

"It is hardly without its comforts and privileges, T'Pol. You will find yourself far more comfortable than you were previously, once this business is concluded."

"I care nothing for comfort, lady." T'Pol said. "Only my duty."

"Then you are a fool indeed." T'Ras sneered.

"As you say, lady."

"You will be required as a lady of the house." T'Ras insisted. "Many responsibilities will fall to you. There are matters no man is equipped to address adequately. Indeed, who do you think truly rules this holding?"

T'Pol found she had no answer for that, assuming of course that the holding was ruled by N'Mut. And by S'Haile over him. Who else ruled here?

T'Ras snorted again. "As I suspected. You know nothing of the world at all. These men rule the men beneath them. And they collect taxes and wage war, secure the borders and enforce the laws. But who decides all else? All the things that truly matter in any way? What do you think they fight one another for, and strive so hard to maintain possession of?"

T'Pol waited. Not especially caring to begin with and not imagining an answer was expected of her.

T'Ras grimaced with disgust. "Women rule here, girl. As they do everywhere else. In every holding. That is what these men fight to possess. When a law keeper in the streets slays a murderer there, who does he slay him for? Himself? No, he slays that man for his mother. And for his sister. And for his mate. Were there no women in the world, who he required to tend to his needs and to acknowledge his worth, what would he care if the man committed murder?"

"And why do these men spill their blood and spend their lives to extend their reach? To claim more women, of course. So that they are acknowledged and their needs attended. And for their sons. And for the men they rule over, so that they will follow them. Indeed every man in the world dreams that he will rule over all, that all women will acknowledge him as their master."

"That is what is required of you, foolish girl." T'Ras said. "Not the passing trial you sulk about here, like a child. You will tend to S'Guya's needs, so that he will be approved. And you will ensure the women beneath you do their duty as well, so that the holding is good and all there is well. And you will exalt him before all the women of the hold, so that he is honored. Because without you S'Guya will rule over nothing of worth at all, even in his own house."

T'Pol remained quiet, for long enough to be assured that T'Ras had said her piece.

"Is that to be my duty then, lady?" She asked.

"Yes. That is your duty."

"Then I will do it, lady. As I have said."

"And that is good." T'Ras said. "Because your duties begin even tonight. At this moment. S'Haile has come here today and he intends to express his dominance of this holding all about the house tonight. Like a _sehlat _urinating on the furnishings, marking his territory. And so it falls to us the ensure this house acquits itself honorably in the face of that, so that N'Mut and S'Guya will know they are approved and not be tempted to make war with him again."

"I will do so, lady."

"And there is another matter that you must prepare yourself for. A new edict that S'Haile has issued, surely with the intent to disgrace my mate yet again."

"What edict, lady?"

"The right of challenge, afforded to all women in his lands. That they may call a champion to fight for them, and win them from whomever they have been given. A thing I might otherwise approve of, were it not for the foolish girl in my house that I must contend with."

"You fear that I may call such a champion, lady?"

"Considering your propensity for fleeing into gardens, weeping like a lost _lara_, perhaps it is wise for me to be concerned, do you not agree?"

"I will do my duty, lady. As I have said."

"And that is good." T'Ras said. "Because I am no fool. Know that if you know nothing else, T'Pol. I would be prepared if you were to consider such a thing. My son is capable enough of defending himself and there is _plak-vedik _enough in the garden you weep in to ensure his victory."

"I understand, lady."

"Then collect yourself and go to the courtyard. Attend to S'Haile and his men, so that S'Guya is approved before them."

"Yes, lady."

T'Ras nodded sharply and strode to the door. "Come, then."

"Lady…" T'Pol asked, only now rising from the couch.

"What is it?" T'Ras snapped.

"When is this to occur? The challenge? I assume there is ceremony of some sort involved, and so must be prepared."

T'Ras studied her for a moment.

"Tomorrow, after first light. At the stone marking the border between this holding and that of S'Haile. Entirely an intentional insult for his having chosen that place, of course. The maidens will instruct you in what you must do there."

And so, the very sitting stone where she meditated in the morning, naturally. And T'Pol found that bitterly fitting. So that even _that _had been taken from her, replaced with this terrible thing.

"I will be ready, lady."

"And I as well. _Plak-vedik _is a simple plant to prepare, T'Pol. So if calling some fool to fight for you is your concern…"

"My concern is entirely with my duty, lady." She lied.

"Good, then. So let us attend to it."

And T'Ras left the room, with T'Pol following behind. Contemplating the terrible yet again.


	9. Chapter 9

T'pol attended to the needs of the men, and to their comfort, as they roamed talking loudly around the chamber. A drink requested here, an article of clothing secured there, a simple bow and recognition of their importance as required.

And T'Ras was there, doing much the same, if limited entirely to her mate and to S'Haile. Even as she watched T'Pol carefully, eyeing her critically the whole while. So that she was entirely unable to warn Satik of the poison S'Guya would lace his _lirpa _with in the morning.

Satik behaved as if unaware anything of importance would occur tomorrow. Entirely unaware of _her_, in fact. And T'Pol supposed that was well enough, as it would seem there was no point in calling on him tomorrow anyway. Perhaps nothing would occur tomorrow of significance at all.

So she continued in that manner, tending to the men in the chamber, caring for nothing beyond that. And caring, truly, nothing for that either. Until S'Haile and N'Mut rose from the table, to conduct more weighty discussion elsewhere. And requiring T'Ras to attend to them there.

After a sharp and whispered warning to her, of course.

"Be mindful of what I have said." T'Ras whispered, in passing. "Honor your betrothed and this house. And refrain from foolishness for a night, if you can manage it."

And she was gone. Leaving her and only two maidens in the company of soldiers. A dreadful prospect, she supposed, had she been capable of caring for anything at all tonight.

Satik raised his knee, slapping his palm down upon it disapprovingly. Hardly waiting until the elders had left the room before drawing attention to himself.

"You, girl." He said, frowning. "My leg is stiff a little still. I think I should demand a return of some sort."

Which prompted chuckles and murmurs around the room from the men. And so she knew they were all aware of who she was and what dealings she'd had with their officer.

"T'Pol." She reminded him. "And did you follow my instructions in regards to the care of the wound, sir?"

He waved the matter away, thoughtlessly. "I'm no healer. I'm a soldier. So come tend to this thing. I may need to flee like a coward soon, if my men continue to fight as poorly as they did against N'Mut. I'll need a good leg for that."

More humor around the room. And his eyes conveyed much beyond what he had said.

So she approached to examine him.

"I'm not taking my pants off in _here_, you know." Satik frowned. "I don't suppose you managed to bring your medicine tent along with you?"

"No, sir." She said. "But we can retreat to another room, if you must concede to modesty."

Another maiden, likely instructed to spy on her tonight, appeared immediately.

"I will aid you, lady." She said.

Causing T'Pol some small discomfort at the title. And all the more at the obvious, and admittedly quite proper, interference with her adjourning to privacy with a soldier.

"Have you any training in the healing arts?" T'Pol asked, stiffly.

"I admit I have not, lady. But I can aid in whatever…"

"And are you familiar at all with men? In that you have touched them in privacy?" She demanded.

"I…no…I have not, of course. But…"

"Then I fail to see what aid you could offer."

"Lady…nevertheless, it would improper…"

Satik spoke up then, irritably. "Run along, girl. I've dealt with this healer before. She knows her business."

"That is not a concern, sir. Rather, she is betrothed to…"

"Then S'Guya may take the matter up with me." Salik snapped. "Go and inform him of your concerns now, if you wish."

The maiden blanched. "I…sir! He is…that is, his time…"

"Then maybe you shouldn't disturb him." Salik glared. "I'm sure his hands are busy enough right now."

More laughter around the room, though T'Pol was uncertain why.

"I…but…"

"Come on, T'Pol." He huffed. "Let's get this leg tended to before the girl faints or something."

He called to the side as he led her away. "Kelev! See to this girl here and give her something else to flutter about, would you? Show her the scar on your ass, that's always popular."

More laughter again, as they left the room.

* * *

><p>T'Pol redirected their energies, combined and all the warmer, down along the leg she held to the wound she'd tended days before…searching for harm and discord…searching and…<p>

Drawing a deep breath, allowing the energy to return to its natural flow. And withdrawing her touch.

"It is healed." She frowned. "Healed already well enough."

"Of course." Satik said. "You did a good job, like I said. Having trouble keeping up here? You know why I brought you out."

"You wish me to call you tomorrow. As my champion, against S'Guya."

"That would be it." He said.

T'Pol sighed. And frowned. Troubled.

"I am told the challenge is to the death." She said, quietly. "That there is no mercy or surrender."

Satik only nodded.

"I don't understand…how you could do that." She said.

"Kill?" Satik asked. "Or do you mean facing death itself?"

"Both. Or…either."

"No small question, lady." He snorted.

"I know. Please excuse me."

He shrugged. "I am a soldier. To be one for longer than your first firefight, you have to accept death. Both yours and everyone else's."

"And so you would kill S'Guya. And risk your own death. For nothing more than to have me."

Satik considered her for a time.

Enough to make her uncomfortable somehow.

Then grunted. "Why do you even want me to fight for you, anyway? What's wrong with S'Guya? He's a little man with big things. Seems perfect for a girl like you."

"What is that to mean?" T'Pol demanded.

He snorted. "You're a strong girl. And smart, and talented. I doubt you'd want to give yourself to a man strong enough that he could tame you."

"I hardly have a choice in the matter." She said, bitterly. "Any man that claims me would tame me. That is the point of this."

"And you'd rather avoid all the mess of _pon'farr_." Satik observed. "That much I can understand, at least."

T'Pol examined him for a moment.

"You have suffered that?"

Satik frowned. "A time or two. But I'm smart enough to use the whores in the city for that. Women I am not betrothed to. What would I want with a mate?"

T'Pol was confused immediately. "But…how…?"

"I am not betrothed." He pointed out. "So I'm not at risk of bonding merely from satisfying _that _need."

T'Pol stared.

He squinted at her. "It's different for men, girl. We aren't bound so easily."

"That isn't fair." She seethed suddenly.

And so Satik smirked. "Little is, girl. You'd better know that."

"And what do you suffer equivalent to this?" She snapped. "To give you the right to speak…"

Satik was angered quickly, she saw. Vaulting from the counter he sat upon to stand before here evenly.

"You ask a soldier what a man suffers? Truly?"

"Indeed." She insisted, her chin raised. "You suffer nothing at all that…"

"I kill." He said, fiercely. "That is what I do. And wait for the day I am killed in return. And I do this so that women like you may complain bitterly that their bath water is not warm enough, rather than wail while they are raped in the streets by my father's enemies. So keep your petty concerns that you might pant after your mate and throw your legs in the air a time or two."

T'Pol was outraged.

She hissed. "It is not your place to speak to me in that manner."

Satik smirked. Again.

"Tomorrow it will be. When I kill your betrothed and claim you for myself." He said. "And I will speak to you as I please both then and now."

T'Pol turned and stormed from the room, throwing the door open and startling everyone there with her violent stomping into, through and beyond the chamber.

Never realizing she had failed to warn Satik of the poison after all.

Until much later, seething still in her room. And even then uncertain that she wished to anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Koon-ut-kalifee  
><em>Shival Flats**

T'Pol stood impassively, a step before her father and the rest of N'Mut's entourage. And, with them, she waited.

Waited for S'Guya to come and claim her.

Ahead across the flat, white sands, the sitting stone lay. The place where she had meditated so many times before. In peace, in innocence, on matters that seemed both beautiful and less than trivial now. Beyond it and to one side, the gong that would signal the end of her.

So she stepped forward. And then stepped again. Until she found herself moving forward, toward the sitting stone.

The murmuring of those behind her beyond her concerns, though she knew that she was supposed to wait. But that didn't matter. After all, what would be done about it? All that mattered was the rising desperation she wrestled. And the hope that she could find peace again before the last.

And so she sat on the stone and rested there, her grief rising still, until she sought her peace. Gazing up at the stellar flares of _Alam'ak_, until the universe passed away.

All was rendered irrelevant. Ceasing to exist. Sands blown away on the wind.

Forever and forever, in white nothingness.

Until the time had come and she returned to existence, for S'Guya had come to claim her there.

She breathed in, accepting. And, at peace again at last, gazed without fear on the man who had come. The striker in his hand still singing from the first ringing of the gong. His madness fully upon him, leaving only enough reason left in him to have accomplished that small thing.

And he rang the gong a second time. Signaling for her to approach, though she already, technically, had.

Beyond him and around them both, his clan gathered. As well as her father and many family members of her own. And Satik, the son of S'Haile, who had come to oversee the ceremony in his father's name. Among other things.

She rose then, calmly and gracefully. Still contemplating matters, in her peace, before the call was issued to begin the challenge. Before the third and final strike could be struck.

She considered that nothing she had suffered had come upon her alone. Indeed, there was no woman in many centuries who had not suffered the same. And many of those, perhaps all, prior to what civilization Vulcan had managed to fitfully grasp so far…they had suffered far, far worse. Perhaps unimaginably so.

She considered that S'Guya was not a bad man. Perhaps even good, for all she knew. And perhaps he would make a good mate, in time. Once she had adjusted to the change that had come upon her. And to the life it had consigned her to.

And she considered that Satik offered perhaps no true rescue or salvation. Indeed, in time, she would come to be his as well. And not only in the physical but in totality, just as with S'Guya. If she called him today, and he won her. If he survived somehow, being unaware the _lirpa _S'Guya would be given had been poisoned.

And she considered at last, that if she did challenge, and both men died as a result, that she would be free…

…for only a time. Until another man laid some claim to her. Or until her own spark ignited and grew, driving her to desperately offer that claim herself. And to who knows what man then.

And even if these men died, and she never bound herself to any man at all, the flame itself would rule her. And so she would proceed through life alone, with only that flame her companion. Waiting for it to rend her when her time came. Again and again. Until it burned out in the end, and she with it, still alone.

In truth, then, she would never be free. There remained only shadows of freedom before her that she might grasp at vainly. In the end, it was meaningless.

Indeed, all was meaningless and all was vain.

All was sand.

And yet here, in this place, at this time, it occurred to her that she had been presented as a prize. To men who could or would strive to claim her. But as a prize, which she truly was, she knew…it remained then what manner of prize she was to be.

One to be fought for and seized, to be used like a tool. Like meat, good for nothing more than to satisfy a passing hunger.

Or a standard. One to which these men must approve themselves, striving to show themselves worthy.

A prize taken. Or a prize bestowed.

She realized the wisdom of S'Haile's edict then. From this day forth any man who would claim a woman, even one promised them, would know that woman must approve him. Or else he would face this challenge. Just as any man who might desire to claim a woman knew that he must be approved to have any hope of being called her champion. To have even the chance to fight for that claim.

The logic was clear. For every thing that had developed throughout the history of the Vulcan people toward civilization, all of it had proceeded first from women to be established then by men. And all entirely because women required it, and so men were moved to establish it.

And so her actions here today would bear forth civilization. Because it was required. And so then these men and all that would come after, they would establish it.

It remained then for her to choose. To be taken or to be bestowed.

And so she understood at last what it was to be T'Pol.

"_Kali-farr_!"

The call went out, and S'Guya stepped forward to ring the gong for the final time.

And indeed, all was sand.

So she stepped forward to become T'Pol, placing her hand calmly before the gong to stop the final blow.

And issue her challenge.

"_Kali-fi!"_

Because she was worthy. And she would remain worthy. And so then, they must be worthy as well.

* * *

><p>T'Pol stood calmly, impassive and unmoved. Embracing beauty and peace as the men on the white sands before her began to strive.<p>

S'Guya in his madness, needing only to be approved and take his claim. Satik because he knew nothing else but duty. But none of that mattered. That they moved to be accepted was the matter.

And it mattered less who won her here today. Neither of them understood what they did. And to whomever she was bestowed, she would remain T'Pol.

She was the flame of the candle. The thing toward which to strive. That which was desired. Both the sitting stone and the flare of _Alam'ak._

Whoever won her here today, that one she would bless. And through him, all her people and all the generations beyond. And she would entrust that one with herself and her beauty.

So when Satik cut S'Guya's chest with the blade of his _lirpa_, it was yet undecided. As when S'Guya struck Satik in return, tainting the wound with his mother's poison, it was not yet determined.

Nor when Satik pierced S'Guya's heart and his body fell to the sand, to become the sand, was the matter set to rest. For Satik stumbled already from the poison, and fell to his knees.

Because he had not yet won her. For that, he was required to live. It remained then to see if he could do so.

So she approached him, even as the crowd swooned. And as he lay in the sand, gasping, she came to stand over him.

And he grinned ruefully up at her then.

"Ah, girl." He said. "I think the little bastard may have…*_gasp_*…poisoned me…"

And he laughed a little. Because he was sand. And of that he was well aware.

"T'Pol." She reminded him, gently. "And I know a girl who is well skilled in the tending of poisoned wounds, Satik."

"Run and fetch her, would you?" He said, his humor still upon him.

"And what reward would you offer her?" T'Pol asked.

Satik gazed up at her then, even as the poison flowed through his veins. And knew very well what was asked of him.

"Whatever she might require, lady." He said. And he was sincere in that, she saw.

"And would you fight to secure that for her, Satik? As you have fought here? And as you have in every fight that your duty required of you before today?"

"I will do my duty, lady." He said, even as his breath faltered and grew faint.

She gazed down upon him then, and having determined him worthy, granted her approval.

"I trust that you will do so." She said.

And she knelt beside him, to pull him up, and rest him on her arm and on her breast. Touching her fingers to his face, she found contact.

"But she is far away." She said. "And so you must make do with me."

She opened herself to him then, a conduit to guide his energy to his healing. And so his humor moved through him and through her, delighting her _katra _and replacing the spark in her womb with another.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hold of Sitak  
><strong>**Shival Flats  
><strong>**Shi'al Province, Na'nam**

She rose slowly to wake, moving not at all and having no care to just yet. Instead she listened to the wind and the sound of sand being blown across the flats. Across the level ground all around her. Across even her bare skin, as she lay naked and bruised on the sitting stone.

Already she meditated somewhat, having allowed herself to flow from sleep along into the borderland between consciousness and the white expanse in her mind. But meditation would come much easier if she sat. And while the flat sitting stone was wide enough to lay upon, it was just exactly small enough that one could not stretch out completely across it. So comfort was something of a factor.

She rose slowly and languidly, and listened to the singing of the bruises and minor injuries she'd suffered as they raised their voices in protest. Even in that she supposed was to be found a beauty of sorts, and a comfort. So before she began her morning meditation, put off for too long already by circumstance and necessity, she endeavored first to channel her own energies to healing.

It had been their third _pon'farr _together and she remembered suddenly that their cycles had merged already. Indeed, her fever had come upon her before either of them was aware that his had as well. And they had shared the surprising revelation that the time had come upon them both at once that morning three days ago over breakfast.

At that memory panic threatened immediately, demanding an accounting of her children's location and well being. It had been three days, at least! But she suppressed it until she considered the question rationally, and so remembered her cousin T'Lon cared for them today, as she had before. Indeed, Soven and T'Kon were well and she could already begin to feel them again far out on the edges of her awareness.

Something warm moved across her _katra _and a hand slid with welcomed roughness up her back as she sat.

"If you are done abusing me, woman, I'm hungry."

And indeed, he was, she could sense. As was she. But that would wait a time longer. And he was being playful anyway, she knew.

"Return to sleep, _ashayam_. You need a little more rest. And I have not yet abused you to my satisfaction."

So he grunted and shifted around her as she sat, seeking a more comfortable position to lay in. And he slapped one hand lightly on her lower back.

"You are already pregnant. Show your _adun _some concern and fetch him something to eat."

"I will do my duty, of course, _adun_. And I think my fever will pass away as well, if I moved from this stone. So that is good, perhaps."

He considered that. Or pretended to. And her body rejoiced as his humor moved upon it.

"I suppose I could stand a little more abuse, if that is required of me."

"Indeed, my _adun _is strong, and I find that I am fortunate in having him."

He laughed then. Which was both a little troubling and immensely enjoyable. He continued to resist a more diligent meditation routine and so his emotions were always close to the surface. But perhaps there was no perfection to be had among men, so he remained acceptable.

As Satik sought and found a place of comfort at her side, he ignored his hunger and his need for a time, finding sleep again. And as he found it and drifted warmly on the sea of her _katra_, she sought peace in the white expanse of her mind with him beside her.

She contemplated many things. But indeed, all was sand and all irrelevant. So she contemplated the irrelevant as well. Most especially the beauty of sand blown upon the wind.

And as she sat upon the stone, not quite fully removed from existence, she became aware of an echo. A reflection on the sitting stone that supported her. Her daughter, T'Kon, who she had introduced to the practice of meditation several months ago and every other morning since. She had left her impression on the stone as well, if only barely. And she found that if she allowed it, if she drifted deeply enough but not so that all awareness was lost, she could touch it. And she could examine the impression in intimacy, drawing it close to her _katra_.

And so she found another there. The impression of her second daughter, V'Kil, who was yet to be born and who would not sit upon the stone for many years.

And her third, T'Nam. And her fourth, Seilla. And V'Sit, her fifth.

And drawing deeper into the stone, she found their daughters after them. And the daughters that proceeded from them.

And she found T'Via, who would come to the stone seeking comfort many years from now. Who had lost her bondmate to war and who would challenge the claim of the warlord who had killed him. And so was moved by her grief and drew her close to her as well, to comfort her.

And T'Hon, whose son, Surak, was too intelligent and wise for her to comprehend. And who feared greatly that she would not be able to guide him to becoming a man.

And T'Lea, whose _adun _had abused her terribly and for many years, until she had been driven to slay him in the garden where he had fallen drunk.

And Semil, whose bond had been broken by a selfish woman. And who had slain them both and come to the stone to take her own life as well.

And V'Wahn, upon whom the Bendii Syndrome had fallen far too early, well before her hundredth year, who had come to be healed.

And T'Mar, who'd been abused beyond measure in her youth, and could give herself to no man. And so, when her time came, had come to her to hold in comfort until her fever burned her away.

And V'Nim. And Kalila, and Se'ow…

V'Mas, T'Won, Senom, Sove, T'Mia…

And T'Pol, who explored the stars with a new people, and had explored too far and too eagerly, even within herself.

And she comforted and healed them all, giving them what wisdom she could and teaching them that all was sand. And that it was for beauty alone that sand existed and was blown upon the wind.

"What is that you perceive, T'Kau?" Satik asked, having been roused and troubled by what moved upon her _katra_.

"The future, _adun_." T'Kau said. "And it is good."

But Satik was gone.

And she was alone.

For it had been many years since he was slain in the battle of Mt. Seleya. And many years after that since T'Kau herself had passed away, sitting upon this stone, contemplating the sand.

And so T'Pol grieved somewhat at all that had been lost. And for the wounded women who had come before her. And for herself. Even as she acknowledged the beauty and strength that had come to be as a result of it.

And so all was sand, and was good, in the end.

When the time came, T'Pol began to emerge from her meditation. But T'Kau was there with her before she returned to existence. And her touch continue to heal and comfort her, so that she was moved with gratitude.

But she did not thank her. Or speak to her at all. For they knew one another then and there was nothing unsaid already between them. So they acknowledged beauty and the logic of healing together, for a time, before T'Pol returned to the universe.

…and found that the flare of _Alam'ak_ had been blocked from sight and from sense. By a tent that had been erected around the stone and around herself.

And around the sleeping Human beside her, who had come, apparently, to rest there in her absence.

So she considered him for a time. Wondering how he had come to be there, when she left him grieving on Earth only a few days ago. But knowing, of course, why he had come.

Simply because it had been required of him.

And probably to express his outrage and bitterness that she'd abandoned him.

Yet again.

So she considered him for a time before deciding whether to wake him.

His skin was red and angry, on his neck and on his hands. Where he'd allowed _Alam'ak_ to touch it too much. His beige excursion uniform was dirtied and torn, his shoulder exposed where it had been ripped away. And he had burned there, too, as a result.

His left boot had lost its heel at some point, she noticed. And it was odd how she was moved so illogically to go and find it.

But she remained, of course, noting the supplies that had been strewn without regard on the sand beside the stone. Most of them empty water bottles, she saw. And a few empty vials of triox as well. And so, judging from the condition of his skin and the lack of moisture she detected there, he was dehydrated. Not so much to be life-threatening just yet, but enough that he should not linger here much longer.

And…he was wounded. A gash across his forearm. A defensive wound, poorly tended but at least bandaged. She imaged that the _le-matya _he'd encountered at some point had come at him from the side, as he was unfamiliar with the wildlife on Vulcan and had failed to detect its approach.

So she determined that she should examine him then. To ensure his health had not deteriorated further than she could discern by sight alone. To tend to his wounds and escort him to safety.

And she reached out her hand to touch him, placing it firmly on his shoulder.

"I'm awake." He rasped. "I'm just really tired."

"I know." She said. "Rest for a moment."

"Had a hell of a time getting here, you know." He said. With some bitterness.

"I can imagine." She said. "I should not have left you."

He sighed. Fatigued already, even with the small effort of speaking.

And as they sat in silence, she rested her hand on his shoulder. And so felt the dark thing move across him to confront her.

"I'm tired, T'Pol." He said. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"I know." She said, comforting him.

And they were silent for while. Until his bitterness resided somewhat.

"How did you convince V'Sai to tell you were I was?" She asked.

He laughed then, if weakly. "I didn't. She wouldn't tell me a damned thing. They wouldn't even talk to me, none of them. They just stared at me."

"Then how did you find me?"

"I have no idea, T'Pol." He sighed, tiredly. "I just grabbed some things and started walking. They gave me some supplies, at least. When I hollered about it enough."

T'Pol nodded.

And smoothed the torn sleeve at the shoulder of his uniform, until it fell somewhat more properly into place. Before returning her hand to rest upon him again.

"You need water, Trip. You're dehydrated." She said.

"Too tired." He said.

She nodded lightly then and spoke.

"I'll help you, _ashayam_."

And so she did. And they left that place soon after.

Returning to their duties, to their healing and to the struggles that awaited them. But together, at least, at last, so there was nothing they could not overcome.

And two years later on, when her time came upon her, there was no fear. She burned for him instead, proudly and beautifully, drawing him into her flame. Until it was quenched and all the universe beyond the two of them returned to sand. And when she brought life forth out of that union, they named their daughter T'Kau.

That child would never come to sit upon the stone in the Shival Flats. Because her mother taught her well what it was to be T'Kau.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for sharing this with me, folks.<em>

_- Mary_


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